Fray
by mikkimikka
Summary: While working together with Camus for a recording in Hokkaido, Nagi sees a different side to his fellow idol. Onesided Crush


TITLE: Fray  
AUTHOR: mikkimikka  
RATING: Everyone/General  
PAIRING: NONE CHARACTERS: Nagi and Camus  
SUMMARY: While working together with Camus for a recording in Hokkaido, Nagi sees a different side to his fellow idol.

fray (third-person singular simple present frays, present participle fraying, simple past and past participle frayed)  
(transitive, intransitive) To (cause to) unravel used particularly for the edge of something made of cloth, or the end of a rope.

FRAY

The wind felt like knives against Mikado Nagi's face as he trudged behind the camera crew up through the snow. He dragged his boots through the thick white slush and lamented the fact that it was he who had to be out there that day.

For what wasn't the first time, he was lamenting his chosen profession. Nobody told him this part of being an idol. He should be happy to be in Hokkaido for the snow festival, but instead, he was miserable about the unforgiveness of the cold.

He held his yellow mittens up to his face, warming the chapped skin of his nose as best as he could against the fabric. He breathed out and relished the heat from his body spreading against his face.

"Mikado."

The voice of his costar was low and held a weight to it that grabbed his attention. Looking up, his steel-colored eyes met with a pair of pale blue ones. The other idol, Camus, was bundled up as well in his long-padded jacket. The hood was pulled over his blonde head. The tail end of his ponytail was tucked neatly beneath his coat. His scarf had been unwound from around his shoulders and he neatly placed it over Nagi's.

"You look like you need this more than I do," Camus said, in a matter of fact manner.

With a delicate touch despite the bulky gloves covering his fingers, Camus coiled the scarf around Nagi's neck and secured it through a loop.

"There."

Without another word to the boy, Camus turned and continued walking forward.

"T,thank you," Nagi stammered, hiding his blush beneath his scarf.

It was his first time actually meeting and working with a Quartet Night member. Nagi wasn't the type to be super intimidated or starstruck. He knew he had his own talents and could hold his own in the entertainment world. However, when he received the part in the travel show and he found out that Camus of all people was one of the co-stars he had no idea what to expect. He'd heard so many things about the man he didn't know what to believe were true.

Arriving on set that day, he bowed to everyone on the cast and as expected everyone cooed over him and how cute he was. It had been that way for years wherever he went, after all.

When Camus arrived on set for the reading, he noticed that while most of the male staff, who were really warm to Nagi, seemed to mutter among themselves as the female staff members began to coo over the foreigner.

Camus remained completely impassive towards Nagi from day one. They rarely spoke more than necessary. Nagi never felt they grew particularly closer and so the act of kindness shown to him out there, the simple gesture of allowing Nagi to use his scarf came as a true and honest surprise. To take it further, that act of generosity touched him. He was unsure as to how to interpret it and he was too afraid to ask.

Finally, they reached their next location, a spot for lunch before filming. It was a tiny local ramen house, the kind Nagi was not unfamiliar with back in his own hometown. His stomach wasn't quite to the point of empty, but he would do anything at this point to take shelter from Sapporo's special brand of cold. Only his pride kept him from running ahead, breaking from the crowd of staff members, and into the building. The little shack was his refuge from the biting wind.

"Take 30 for lunch," the producer said before walking off with some of the crew. Camus, Nagi, and a few other staffers were left behind to take lunch on their own in the tiny building.

As soon as he stepped in, he felt the tension in his body release and his shoulders, once hunched, relaxed. The restaurant only had two tables and a long bar, but it was empty so Nagi and the staff members were able to sit along the bar on the stool. Nagi tried to ignore the fact that Camus settled into the seat beside him, removing his hood and unzipping the front of his long-padded jacket before settling down.

Nagi hadn't even taken the time to do that, sitting directly, still bundled up in his own winter gear, though he did remove his mittens and stuffed them into his right coat pocket without ceremony. Nagi looked under the bar perusing the selection of manga before even thinking to glance at the menu.

There were some older issues of Shonen Jump, Young Jump, and Shonen Sunday. He grabbed the newest looking copy of Shonen Sunday, feeling the slightest tinge of disappointment when he recognized the cover; he's read that issue already. He set it on the bar and flipped through to Arata.

"Shouldn't you decide on your order before reading your magazine?" asked the staff member at his side.

Nagi didn't look up, "I want miso ramen."

"This is Sapporo there is more than just miso ramen here," the staff sighed.

"Like what?" Nagi inquired.

"Perhaps he is interested in Hokkaido's own miso ramen." That was Camus this time. "Afterall, miso ramen is a fairly newcomer to the flavors of traditional Japanese ramen. What better place to experience it than here in Sapporo, the birthplace of its popularity? The bold and hearty richness of the miso stock is the perfect way to combat the infamous chills of a northern winter."

"Ah," the staff member seemed at a loss. "Yes, I suppose you're correct, Camus-sama."

Of course, he was correct. That was something Nagi had quickly discovered in his short time working with the foreign idol. He was always right and portrayed an air of superiority while also keeping his facade of gentlemanly humility. It was odd and also something Nagi had very little experience with. He felt close with everyone in HEAVENS despite the variety of personalities, and there were difficult ones among them. But Camus wasn't someone Nagi could say he quite understood even with his propensity for reading others, especially those he was meant to work with.

Camus wasn't someone he particularly wanted to befriend, but his lack of interest in Nagi moved him to curiosity. Even more mysterious was the sudden act of kindness so out of character displayed at the onset of their trek. The action replayed in his mind and perhaps it was a mere embellishment of his mind that caused him to remember the feeling of Camus' gloved fingers against his neck as he secured the scarf to him.

As he thought of this, Nagi toyed with the frayed edge of the scarf. Camus spoke to him abruptly.

"You mustn't play with it. You'll fray it further."

Nagi hadn't even realized what he was doing and looked down at the scarf. "Ah, sorry I-"

It was already fraying at the end. Camus picked up the edge of the scarf and lifted it.

"Annoying, but it can be fixed," Camus said.

He dropped the scarf and Nagi looked down at it again, noticing for the first time that it bore the emblem of Quartet Night's most recent tour. It was a polyester thing, cheaply made in an ice blue color that contrasted with the dark black of Camus' long padded coat. Its white and grey stripes were interspersed with strands of silver thread. It was concert goods and something in Nagi's chest constricted and warmed at the sentimentality of the man beside him wearing his own goods. It was cute. Something he didn't expect to see as a trait of someone with such a regal air.

Nagi took the scarf off and handed it back to Camus. He had to tap his shoulder to catch his attention. When Camus turned, his blonde hair slid against the fabric of his collar and framed his white face perfectly. He was effortlessly beautiful and Nagi was in awe.

"Thank you, but I don't need it... for now," Nagi replied.

He couldn't help but to tack on that last bit. His trademark playfulness couldn't be stopped just because he didn't know how Camus would receive it. Or that he was enamored by the color of his eyes or the length of those blonde lashes as he blinked.

Camus did not hesitate before reaching out for the slip of fabric. His cold stare still leveled with Nagi's steel grey one.

"For now, indeed," Camus nodded finally, and he took the scarf and set it across his lap with the most delicate of touches.

Nagi forced his eyes away and back to the pages of Shonen Sunday. He played with the fringe of his bangs pretending to read as he awaited the meal.

The miso ramen was good and warmed him enough to be able to brave once more Hokkaido's bitter cold. Once more, Camus returned his scarf to Nagi's shoulders. He turned away and slipped on his gloves. He walked out of the store.

"It seems like Camus has taken a liking to you," smiled a staff member before following Camus out the door.

Nagi wrapped the scarf neatly about his neck and hid his blush between the folds.

It wasn't until Nagi came back up into his room after an afternoon of filming that he realized he still had Camus scarf coiled around his neck. Had he filmed the entire time with it on? How would the fans feel to see him wearing Quartet Night merch during in official broadcast; what would his members think? And yet, Nagi was too tired to truly mind, instead he felt a pleasant sensation within the pit of his belly. It warmed him. Unwinding the article, he stroked the QN emblem beneath his thumb.

The frayed edges glittered under the light of the room and Nagi sat down at his bed. He was more exhausted than he originally thought. His shoes were kicked off, his legs kicked up, as he reclined in the bed.

He weighed his options in his mind: return the scarf now or wait until the following morning. As he sat on his bed, he considered carefully the pros and cons of both. It wasn't so dire a matter, but Camus was a mysterious figure. If it were Eiichi he'd run in right away, like a gust of wind in a blizzard, hopping on his bed even, but Camus was so reserved. Would he even want to be disturbed?

Nagi turned at the sound of the door opening, and in stepped his manager who he was sharing a room with.

"I still have Camus' scarf," Nagi said as he raised it up into the air.

"Oh, well I can run it down to his manager."

"I kind of wanted to return it myself, to say thank you."

"No need," the manager replied, taking the article away from the young idol so quickly, Nagi had no chance to protest.

Once he was out the door Nagi was alone once more. Accompanying his thoughts was the heaviness in his heart and the chill of the loss of heat against his hands. He tucked his fingers beneath his pillow and closed his eyes, and the first thing he could see was the stern yet handsome face of Camus. He showed such kindness in the most flippant of ways and Nagi absolutely wasn't used to it. He was used to a more doting type, more in your face and direct. Instead, Camus was subtle but soft, like a fresh blanket of snow.

How puzzling. There was a tiny buzz inside of him that started at his stomach and then crawled and tugged at his heart softly. Just like the falling snow outside of his window, his heart fluttered within him. It didn't hurt, though there was discomfort. A quiet ache settled into him the longer he stayed in the quiet of his room. He didn't much regret not being able to say thank you. Instead what Nagi felt was the hollowness of a missed opportunity to look once more at Camus' beautiful face.

Sans scarf, Nagi hid his blush against the plush cotton of his pillow.

THE END


End file.
